


Whenever you need me... (just say my name)

by CheetahLeopard2



Series: White Collar/Batman fics [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU), Tim Drake is Neal Caffrey, jaytimkon is implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27693350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheetahLeopard2/pseuds/CheetahLeopard2
Summary: Neal's hit by Fear. He calls for Kon, and (to the surprise of the FBI) Superboy shows up.“Kon!” Neal screams in what is clearly agony, dropping to his knees and sobbing hysterically into his hands.Peter’s not sure he expected anything in particular to happen before the antidote gets here, other than the pain in his chest watching Neal– hisfriend- break down in front of him, helpless. But he definitely didn’t expect something slamming into the pavement besides Neal with enough force to dent it.And then, Peter realizes somethingis actually someone.Superboyis cradling Neal gently in his arms, murmuring soothing words in his ear and rubbing his back as he hyperventilates, giving no indication he’s noticed Superboy at all.
Relationships: Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent/Jason Todd
Series: White Collar/Batman fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025266
Comments: 26
Kudos: 312





	Whenever you need me... (just say my name)

**Author's Note:**

> So! Tim's greatest fears are Jason hating him (again) and joining back with Ra's to kill him, and Kon dying (again) protecting him.

“It’s Fear gas!” Neal yells in warning, but it’s too late for him.

It starts with his heart rate ticking up, with light and dark bleeding together when he moves his eyes, shadows creeping along the edge of his vision.

And then he’s not in New York at all- never was.

It’s deathly silent, and Tim can tell he’s not alone. He goes still, trying to control his breath, but his rapid pulse must give him away because in the next instant the first assassin reaches for him out of the dark.

Tim subdues them quickly, quietly. He has to be quiet, to get out alive. He’s not sure where the exit is, so he makes a choice and runs.

The next wave of four assassins hit him after only two steps, and they’re taken down equally easily.

A slow, familiar clap echos in the tunnel, and Tim spins so his back is to a wall. He doesn’t have his staff.

“Congratulations, Timothy,” Ra’s purrs, gliding out of the shadowed end of the tunnel, “You’ve only got one more challenge.” With a wave of his hand, Red Hood melts out of the shadows, advancing menacingly.

“Replacement,” he growls, modulated voice loud in the enclosed space, “ _Pretender,_ you’re better off dead.”

“No,” Tim protests, voice wavering, “Don’t do this, ‘ _Hood please._ ”

Jason keeps advancing, unlatching and carelessly dropping his helmet on the way so Tim can see his Lazarus-green eyes, silently stalking. Coming to kill.

Tim can’t fight him again. He doesn’t have the strength.

“Ya know,” Jason says, once he’s a few feet away, “It’s so pitiful, almost funny,” his lips curl in something between a sneer and a snarl, “That you thought anyone could love _you_.”

“Jason,” Tim whispers, a single tear escaping as the muzzle of a gun raises level with his forehead, and his eyes slip closed.

_Bang!_

There’s no pain. There’s no pain and Tim opens his eyes and it’s because Kon is there, turning to face him, turning so the hole in his chest, faintly pulsing green, is visible.

Jason’s mechanized laughter echos as Kon smiles sadly at Tim, before dropping.

“ _KON!”_ Tim screams, agony shooting through him, through his knees as he falls to them, and the Fear still stuck as a lump in his throat expands, choking him until he can’t breath, he _can’t breath hecan’tbreath-_

And then there’s nothing.

* * *

“It’s Fear gas!” Neal shouts in warning, and everyone quickly scrambles away. The gas itself dissipates quickly, and other than Neal getting a face full, no one is effected.

Jones quickly radios to send for an antidote, but Peter barely hears it, because he can’t believe what he’s seeing-

An agent reaches to tap Neal’s shoulder, and faster than anyone can track she’s on the ground, still and silent.

“Shit,” Peter mutters, “We need to restrain him!”

The four who try are taken down as well, and this time there’s no question that Neal knows what he’s doing.

There’s a pause, a moment of stillness where Neal’s frozen in place, staring at a fixed spot in the distance.

And then Neal’s breath hitches and he stumbles back a step, raising his hands in a placating manner, “No,” can barely be heard, but he speaks louder as his voice breaks, “Don’t do this, ‘ _Hood please.”_

Diana speaks up from next to Peter, “Do you know who he’s talking about?”

Peter wordlessly shakes his head. This entire situation feels wrong.

Neal’s breath hitches again, and he lowers his hands, closing his eyes in what looks like resignation.

After a second he opens them, and the way they widen would be comical if the entire scene weren’t so fucked up.

“ _Kon!”_ he screams in what is clearly agony, dropping to his knees and sobbing hysterically into his hands.

Peter’s not sure he expected anything in particular to happen before the antidote gets here, other than the pain in his chest watching Neal– his _friend_ \- break down in front of him, helpless. But he definitely didn’t expect something slamming into the pavement besides Neal with enough force to dent it.

And then, Peter realizes _something_ is actually _someone._

 _Superboy_ is cradling Neal gently in his arms, murmuring soothing words in his ear and rubbing his back as he hyperventilates, giving no indication he’s noticed Superboy at all.

It doesn’t take long for Neal to pass out, and for Superboy to turn his attention to the FBI agents frozen around them.

Peter steps forward, and Superboy’s gaze snaps to him.

“What. Happened?” he growls, an almost feral glint in his eyes as he stares Peter down, a far cry from the social, smiling super hero the media shows and most of the world knows. _This is what a super must look like in a fight,_ Peter realizes, and he’s not too happy to have the knowledge.

“Neal got hit with Fear gas, the antidote is on its way,” Peter says, quickly summarizing.

Superboy’s startles at the words “Fear gas,” before fumbling through his jacket pockets, “I hope this is recent enough,” he mutters to himself, before pulling out a syringe, uncapping the needle, and depressing it directly into Neal’s neck before anyone can stop him.

It must work, because a moment later Superboy slumps with relief, “Vitals returning to baseline,” he reports, before gathering Neal in a bridal carry, “I’ll take him to the nearest hospital.”

He’s gone before anyone can get in a word edgewise.

* * *

When Neal wakes up, it’s to the faint, rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor and a looming presence at his bedside.

He groans when he tries to open his eyes, the light stabbing his sensitive eyes and aggravating his throbbing head.

He tries again, and is much more successful with the mental preparation. He slowly turns his head to see Bruce at his side, glaring towards the door, where Peter stands.

“’m not goin’ back to work, ‘m I?” Neal manages to slur, and Bruce reaches to brush his hair gently away from his eyes.

“No chum,” he says, exceedingly gentle, tone the same as when he reassures almost-victims on the streets, even as his his glare at Peter is firm, “You’re not.”

Tim mumbles, “I wanna say g’dbye tom’row.” He can feel his grip on consciousness slipping, “’night Dad.”

He doesn’t hear the reply.

* * *

Neal doesn’t show up at the office after he’s discharged, and when they try to track him down they find every trace of Neal Caffrey gone, as though he never existed in the first place.

* * *

A few months later, there’s a knock on the Burke’s door.

“Hey,” Tim Drake greets with an unfamiliar-familiar smirk, raising a wine bottle, “Hope you don’t mind me crashing dinner.”

**Author's Note:**

> P l e a s e Comment.  
> I have Many more ideas. Many more. Some for Tim as Neal and some for Dick as Neal.


End file.
